The Light at The End of The Tunnel
by kochan1
Summary: Makoto Sasaki spends his spare time attacking the mountain passes with his codriver. He soon finds himself driving for more than just plain fun, with much to gain and even more to lose. Updated with Chapter IV.
1. Just another Night

**Disclaimer/Copyright:** More of a copyright notice than a disclaimer at this point really. The fic will introduce certain Initial D characters later. The plot and original characters in this story belong to me. Shigeno owns the rest. You know which ones are his. Rating will be PG for now due to adult themes and may shift up later (depending on how nasty I get ;) ). 

**The Light at The End of The Tunnel  
By Kochan**

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The air rushes down through the intake with a rushing breath, accompanied just after by the whine of the turbo charger as it spools. But only for a moment as the characteristic growl of the horizontally opposed four cylinder take over, building in pitch, in volume. It culminates in a loud 'Psssssssht!' that is the mating call of the engine, a sensual sigh of passion; excess air vented to atmosphere via the blow off valve as I slam the clutch pedal in. Slotting the short shifter a gear up, I throw the throttle open once more. 

She rewards me by slamming my body back against the bucket seat, screaming harder and higher in passion as the tachometer climbs all the way to redline. Her raw scent is intoxicating; smoky transmission oil mixed with the sweet mountain air as I draw it in like an opium addict. Again I go through the motions as though in a drug-induced trance, loving the torque push, the exhilaration, the rush that fills me: a cycle I would almost desire to be never-ending…but for the corner ahead. 

"Long sweeping left, 80, stay on the inside for the right hairpin straight after" comes the voice of the man beside me. Together we are a team, immortal gods conquering the mountain one curve at a time. His voice guides me just as though his own hand were upon mine ready to turn the wheel. 

The silent countdown in my mind is second nature. The seat belt pulls tight at my shoulder as I pressure the brake pedal hard and slam the clutch in. Down a gear; my heel leans across to give the gas a solid blip. I pull the wheel right, then a full turn left as I lift off the clutch. 

The rear tires squeal in their struggle to grip the asphalt and I floor the gas without flinching. My hands are fluid in counter-steer as I feather the accelerator after, gliding the car through the corner. Always, I keep a trained ear on the high pitched whine that is characteristic of this car. 

"Bit close to the inside Makoto," mumbles my co-driver. 

I smile, knowing it's a little close for him…but not I. Nevertheless, I let off the gas a touch to give us another few inches from the wall. 

"On the straight, hairpin coming up fast in 30!" 

I feed in a more throttle and feel the tires begin to grip again, slowing the slide, pressuring the suspension on one side. The Limited Slip Differential on the rear is working hard, laboring to keep both wheels pushing forward even as they drift. 

Again the silent countdown and I give the brake pedal a firm step, swinging the wheel about to full opposite lock. The pressuring of the suspension acts like a rubber band, springing the weight of the car forwards and across to the other side with the agility of a ballet dancer. The rear winds about in obedience and I steer us through the tight corner, turning what would be considered an out of control slide by most into a silky smooth hairpin drift. 

"Whoa…whoa….we're awfully close to that rail." 

And so we should be…just how I like it. The grin on my face has already set. The high pitched whine tells me I'm almost cleared of the hairpin and I pressure down the pedal, feeling power build in the rear. 

"All clear ahead, let's go!" 

I'm one step ahead of him, my foot flush against the firewall with the accelerator trapped in between. The drift ends with a power slide, sensors screeching as the car streaks into the straight, inches from the rock face on our left. The Tacho needle climbs to redline, and again with a loud 'Psssssssht!' I shift up to third with the sledge-hammer like torque slamming into my back. 

Two corners…we've only just begun… 

**** 

My hometown Karuizawa, perhaps one of the most popular summer resorts in these mountains. But the streets are quiet now with the families asleep in their beds and tourists watering themselves with beer and sake at their lodges. I cruise through as quietly as is possible with a three-inch turbo back exhaust, wincing as I hear the dogs howling their disapproval. 

The proximity sensor whines once more as I pull into the driveway of my home. A moment to listen into the signature booble of the engine resonating off the sidewalls before I cut the ignition. It idles to silence, and all that is left is the sound of cooling metal and oil. 

"Makoto. Fine in there?" 

I fumble my way out of the garage and towards his voice. "Yeah. I think she's idling a little high. I'll have to take her to Shige's tomorrow." Tsuyoshi's pacing, walking off the adrenalin. He's the only one who doesn't doubt my ability to drive, let alone drift. 

We embrace, and I squeeze just a touch to show my appreciation, "Thanks for coming with me, Tsu. It means a lot." 

"Heh, it's alright. When you plummet off the side of the cliff…I'll be right there beside you." There's a touch of uneasiness in his voice, but it's masked by the laughter we share. 

We whisper our goodbyes and I walk towards the door of my home, looking forward to a good night of rest. 

"Oi Makoto..." 

'Hai…?" The warning comes too late as I walk head long into the garbage can that my mother left out. A tremendous crash to wake the neighborhood, half a pitch roll and I'm covered in fish guts and old vegetables. "Iteeeee…" I hiss, clutching at the newfound pain in my shin under my slacks. 

"Oohhhh…that's gotta hurt." snickers Tsuyoshi as he helps me to my feet, "Sure you don't want me to drive tomorrow?" the concern in his voice is one I've heard a thousand times before. 

I brush off what smells like prawn shells and sigh. Despite being my best friend for six years, his trust in me isn't quite complete, and I don't blame him. 

I am after all...legally blind… 

************ 

**Author's Notes:**

Well, here's the first chapter to my first Initial D fic. It'll be a long one in 3 parts of about 6-8 chapters each (at least that's how it seems at this point in time). Nevertheless, here's hoping you enjoyed it and hoping even more that the next installment isn't going to be too far away. Feel free to leave a review if you like (And I'll make a point to drop a personal thanks to you in the next chapter ;) ). Thanks for your time! 

P.S - Bonus points if you can guess what kind of car Makoto drives!! 


	2. The Last Sunrise

**Disclaimer/Copyright:** More of a copyright notice than a disclaimer at this point really. The fic will introduce certain Initial D characters later. The plot and original characters in this story belong to me. Shigeno owns the rest. You know which ones are his. Rating will be PG for now due to adult themes and may shift up later. 

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**The Light at The End of The Tunnel **

**By Kochan**

Chapter II - The Last Sunrise 

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My parents suffered the most bitter of divorces when I was only twelve. They could come to no agreement and our family was split in two. Father wanted his children to take up his idea of a business venture, while my mother wanted my younger sister and I to become academics. And so my mother took my sister with her to raise in another town and I was never to hear from them again.

To grow up without one parent figure was one thing but to exist without the other sibling, the one person each of us had grown to love and care for like no other...that was another matter. In the days leading up to the separation our parents grew more and more distant as we grew ever closer. When the squabbles stopped, it seemed so unfair that our family should be torn apart yet nothing would change my parents' decision.

There came a day that my sister took ill with Chicken Pox and was forced to stay home from school for almost a week. Mother kept us apart for fear of my contracting the same virus. The time I was neither able to see nor speak to her was spent in misery. On the Fifth day, I skipped a class during school to steal into the Teacher's room. My sister had always admired the butterfly-styled hair clip that her graduate classroom tutor wore and this I procured for her. I returned home that evening confident the mere sight of it would make her well, only to find the house emptied and my father butting the seventh Marlboro from his second pack on the front steps.

"They're gone." was all I got from him before he stepped past me back into the empty shell that had once been our family home.

I opened my mouth to scream but my power of speech had vanished along with my mother and sister. The sun was fleeing the darkening skies as I went in search of them.

Soon, night had fallen with the moon high overhead, mourning it's solitude as it hid behind the clouds. The hours spent in the shopping districts, parks and playgrounds had led to nothing but blistered feet and bitter disappointment.

My newfound bed that night was the cold, unsympathetic concrete of a discarded construction pipe. As I lay in that pipe, I cried for my sister to be returned to me but the only answer was the pathetic echo of my own voice.

I wandered the streets for the better part of a week, conducting my aimless search by daylight, returning to the pipe to mourn at night. Larceny became a way of survival and I began with standard Chuuka Manjuu (Roast Pork Buns). I'd progressed to Ginjo Nikuman on the third day (Twice the amount of pork crammed into the same bun!) and it was finally on the Tsu No Gokujo Nikuman (Twice the size of the average bun with twice the filling!) that my mini-wave of crime came to an end.

The baker called me a pest on the world. The police looked at this unwashed truant as an inconvenience. Even Father had showed no emotion upon his face when he came to pick me up, answering every one of the constable's humiliating comments with a quiet nod.

I wanted him to slam me up against the wall of the questioning room until I couldn't breathe. I wanted him to slap me senseless whilst screaming abuse and death threats. I wanted what most children got from their parents but received nothing, not even a disgusted look.

Silence hung thick in the air as he let the fog of my own guilt smother me during the car ride home. I felt even more alone sitting beside him than during all my time in the pipe. I never hated him more, than at that point.

We never spoke about that incident from that day onwards...

Not long after, Father remarried and our lives took a sharp turn. With the addition of my new mother, we moved out to Karuizawa. There, Father bought over and renovated one of the aging resorts with what should have been my education money.

I remember riding in our tourist mini-bus as we drove down Usui Touge to Yokogawa Station. From there we'd ferry the couples and families from their trains to our resort home. It was on the Usui pass that we'd often see the night racers flying past at breakneck speeds.

"Young fools! Racing only to their deaths!" Father would mutter as they passed. "Makoto, you must always show these roads due respect. Those who don't, find the valley below sooner than they might imagine."

Perhaps it was the rebel in me rearing his defiant head at my father's disapproval of the sport, but many a trip I'd imagine myself at the wheel of that bus, sliding through the turns like those Drift Racers.

One early September morning, my father's words rang true. It was a routine pickup for the Local train that linked onto the 7 AM Asama Shinkansen (Bullet Train) outbound from Tokyo. The sunrise was beautiful; an explosion of crimson and tangerine waves rolling out over the skyline as we traveled down the mountain.

A pair of lights swept in from behind us and my father gave his usual grumble as the car made to overtake us around the blind corner ahead.

I remember the beauty of that red Nissan S12 well as it slid sideways after passing us. I remember the tires squealing, the sound of that engine at 5500 RPM as the driver feathered the gas. I remember it well as it remains to this day the very last car I ever saw.

The driver of the grocery truck on the other side said he never saw us till it was too late. He'd swerved hard to avoid the S12 that had drifted onto his path, only to find himself face to face with our minibus.

Father had slammed the brakes and pulled hard to the side as he saw the truck attempting to steer back away. But in those days Anti-Lock Brakes were just coming into being and we found ourselves ploughing straight down the road towards a truck that was doing the very same. The very last image I have in my mind is that of my father putting his hand over my chest in a futile effort to shield me as the lights of the oncoming truck grew brighter and brighter. The world exploded into a blizzard of shattered glass and torn steel before my face struck the dashboard and I was pitched into darkness.

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When I awoke, there was still nothing but darkness. It took some time for the confusion to abate and for me to realise that I wasn't dead. At first, I thought it a miracle that I was still alive, but the stinging in my eyes told me that something was amiss.

The darkness didn't abate and over the next day, the tearful voice of my newly widowed stepmother broke the news to me. Both my eyes had sustained substantial damage from the impact and surgery had proven to be little success.

What the doctors discussed with my stepmother didn't make any sense to me then. Terms like 'Optic Foramen fracture ', ' Ethmoidal Labyrinth Haematoma ' and 'Optic Nerve Decompression' took months of research before I was fully able to understand them.

The conclusion was simple: I had lost all sight in both eyes with no chance of recovery.

All they could do was make me comfortable...but then there was also my father to mourn. The driver's side had taken the brunt of the impact and Father had been killed in that instant. Ironic that the truck driver hadn't suffered a scratch and that the S12 driver hadn't even stopped or turned himself in since.

The news was to get worse. The resort, also our home, was still under debt and the bank had as much sympathy as a Ugandan Dictator.

The town helped where they could; Donations at least covered Father's cremation and part of the hospital fees.

On discharge, I aided my stepmother where I was able but the first year was still a struggle for both of us. Days of no sleep, endless duties and low cash flow exhausted me and damn near killed my step mother.

It wasn't long before I realized the gravity of the situation and made a vow not to allow my blindness to be a burden. I learned the Japanese Braille Six dot System within three weeks and spent tens of hours each week reading every Braille and Audio book available at the Matsuida Library. In particular, I took a keen interest in Engineering and anything to do with Business and Management.

We scraped into the green in the second year and through my advice, my stepmother chose to hire some staff in taking over operations while she and I focused on management.

Five years passed, and by the time of my 'Seijin no Hi' (Coming of Age day - An auspicious day for everyone turned twenty in the past year), we had complete ownership of the business, regulars that filled the rooms most weeks in summer and enough staff to allow the place to run on it's own.

I chose to renovate the East and West Wings in the following three years, expanding the resort to twice it's original capacity. We now had double the staff and had received several lucrative offers from other resorts to sell...all declined of course.

I smile to myself each time I think of how far we've come since; my step-mother is secure for as long as she lives and Father would have been happy to know that we'd achieved his dream. I myself had already been approached by a number of small hotel owners on consultancy work.

Each night, I lay my head down to rest and the same questions are whispered in my mind as the past returns. What of my True-Mother and my Sister? How had they fared since moving away? I guessed perhaps my sister had already married and I had a nephew or a niece, or even both.

Part of me felt saddened at the prospect that she might have moved so far ahead in her life, while I had yet to discover most of the world for myself. The other felt relieved that she probably hadn't suffered like I had...and that above all else she still had her sight.

I didn't know, might never know how she'd fared, but I thought of and prayed for her each night as I twirled that butterfly hairclip in my fingers...just as I'd done every night for the past 12 years.

Now, I had my own life to live, dreams to pursue, my own course to set. I wasn't content with what I had. I wanted to live the life that I would have lived had the accident not happened: I wanted to walk the streets without being stared at, to cross the road without being offered help, and perhaps most of all, to be able to drive a car without assistance...

...but that's a story for another time...

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**Replies:**

Chisha: Oh goody, I've done my job right if you can understand it now. Don't do what Makoto does in the story during your driving lessons though. Car wise it's the same car I drive in RL - sent you a pic didn't I? Go watch the show when you got some time (smile).

Tiger Eyes: He he - same thing. If you managed to keep interested while not knowing much, I've done what I needed to. And now now -you've only had to wait since Easter. ;) Don't you go terrorising the streets of Ohio in your van either.

KOKO: :) Thanks - all I have to do now is update a little more often than once in 6 months :p I've seen Patlabor from back sometime - but how do you mean on the reference?

Thanks again for your time!

WildGoose: Cheers! I've tried to make sure that the char is interesting write an hopefully read about too. As for Makoto's gender - you should have your answer by now.

Carwise - not quite. The RX's use turbo- charged Rotaries rather than Flat Four Boxers.

By the time you read this - you should already have another review for GK02. If not - it'll be close. Nice fic - keep it up!

P.s - Impact Blue? Well...why would you think that? (Innocent look) :D

Li'l penguin Girl: Merci my little B & W Seabird :D - I'm hoping to keep the road a little twisty too :) Thanks for reading!

Rossriders: Yo, nice to have you onboard. Certainly keep going on with 'Around the world' as well, it's come quite far.

Carwise - Ping Pong! You've got it. It's an Impreza turbo :)

Ross wins...a darn long review on his latest chapter of 'Around the world'!

BuntaWRX: Hee hee, I could have gone with a GDA but Yah - GC8 with an EJ20. Thats it. Unfortunately Ross got there ahead of ya. :P

Thanks for reading! I'd drop a review but you haven't got any stories yet

See you next review!

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And yes...I'm headed off to Japan in a week. :D I'll be doing a little research whilst I'm there on places like Haruna (Akina), Akagi and Myogi should I get the chance so at least I'll have SOME idea what I'm writing about. Thanks all reviewers for reading and hope this at least stays interesting for yous all

Till next chapter, where there'll be a little car info for you tech heads to enjoy :)

My Rant  
Ko-Chan


	3. More than meets the eye

**Disclaimer/Copyright:** More of a copyright notice than a disclaimer at this point really. The fic will introduce certain Initial D characters later. The plot and original characters in this story belong to me. Shigeno owns the rest. You know which ones are his. Rating will be PG for now due to adult themes and may shift up later. 

Silly as it might sound, I have to stress that all of the following is pure fiction. I am in no way responsible if you somehow attempt to do the same and injure others and/or yourself in the process.

Subaru, Impreza, STI, Apexi, Blitz, IHI, TEIN, EDFC, KAAZ, Endless, Zero Sports, Porsche, Brembo, Kirin, Lucky Strike and any other branding I may have missed below are all copyrighted. I am in no way using this for any profit.

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**The Light at The End of The Tunnel  
By Kochan**

Chapter III - More than meets the eye 

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First impressions might have you thinking her just like any other GC8 Impreza family sedan. She's identical to her non turbo-charged sisters body-wise; with even her signature bonnet scoop tamed in favour of the closed hood that her less aggressive siblings sport.

A larger, more efficient, Apexi front mount intercooler has replaced her original top mount. Some might liken this to the personal choice of a woman increasing her chest size for cosmetic purposes, but my interests were in her increased lung efficiency and little else. Painted black for stealth with a subtle mesh cover over the front grill, few guess its presence until hearing the sound of her engine.

Her breathing is driven by a Blitz Cold Air Intake and an IHI VF37 Turbocharger, with a 3-inch Fujitsubo custom exhaust giving her voice that characteristic rumble.

And last, the brain: a Modified Motec M600 Engine Management System commanding all of these components to crank a modest 300 Horse Power at 6150 RPM. 

But no car is complete without handling modifications to match the performance enhancements. More often than not, these are the ones that cannot be seen or heard, only felt.

Front and rear Kaaz Limited Slip Differentials help in keeping her feet on the ground. She sits an inch lower with TEIN suspension, sporting coilovers as subtle as 3-inch pumps yet keeping her as sure-footed as flat footed runners.

Six Pot Brembo calipers kiss Endless CC-X brakepads against the cold steel of her 310mm slotted front disc rotors. This setup brings her to a grinding halt in seconds even when the 300 horses under her bonnet run at full gallop.

As an All Wheel Drive, she's notoriously harsh on front as well as rear tyres. I grace her front axle with soft semi-slicks known for their savage grip on dry and wet surfaces alike.

Her rears are little more than commuter standard, balanced between grip and longevity. Their advantage is that they remain durable despite being below half tread, remaining more predictable gripwise for my use. As it may be, the workshop never sees a shortage of these cheap rubber tyres; It's not rare for six to eight discards to come through there every week with about one third tread remaining. Perfect for me; One man's trash is another man's gold...and nothing keeps my girl happier than a fresh pair of golden sandals each weekend.

But despite all of these parts and modifications, as any competent racer will tell you, a car can only unleash its full potential under the skillful hand and watchful eye of the right tuner.

Shigeru Kiyohara is a middle aged mechanic, ex-Zero Sports engineer with several years at Subaru Technica International as a primary Group A tuner. Now he has a wife, two children, and pays his mortgage installing Global Positioning Systems and servicing commuter vehicles in Takasaki.

My best friend Tsuyoshi has described him as a short man of stature with a less than flattering face to match his gruff voice. He's never caught without either a cigarette or beer can in his left hand. Nevertheless, this man is the Magician behind the workings of the GC8.

Shige fits Global Positioning Systems on a daily basis, as many as seven a day. He's in touch with the latest and the greatest when it comes to Satellite-Navigation and Computer Guidance.

Years ago, he attended a convention where new mapping technology was being showcast. One particular system involved Live, Three-dimensional landscape modelling in testing by several military groups throughout the world.

The basis was simple: A mobile laser mounted on a land-based vehicle (such as a car) would be swept over the road surface as the vehicle travelled through its course. Rocks, trees, guardrails as well as the road would be recorded within the system via a computer and then combined with Satellite Imagery to generate a Three-Dimensional model of the course accurate to 0.5 millimeters.

GPS computers are cheap, the secondary tracking devices and sensors are cheaper. How one of these 20 million yen lasers came to find its way into Shigeru's possession he refuses to tell me to this day. All I know is that it wasn't altogether legal and that someone in a faraway country got one less than they should have. "Better that we use it here to map roads than they use it to fight their wars with.' were his words. That concept I embraced with open arms.

As you might guess, the GC8 is outfitted with one of these on the roof. It's subtle; no larger than a ballpoint pen and passes for an antenna that lights up in the night.

But that's only half the story. Just how is one able to 'see' the road with this setup?

Firstly, there are course instructions: Rally style. My GC8 tells me the direction and severity of the turns ahead through the choice of either a soothing female voice or a series of harsh clicks and bleeps.

Next, data like her current speed, torque and G-meter readings are combined with her orientation on the road (via the laser) at 100 millisecond intervals (10 times every second). The live data is compared with the simulation of a near perfect run on the course through a computer and she warns me as to how close I am to the limit of control via the audiosystem.

Last comes the fine tuning. The capability that allows me to push her to that limit. Sixteen proximity sensors about her perimeter determine just how far or close I am from the guardrails, walls and even other traffic on each course. All this is communicated to me through a set of pitched whines.

To make the most of this, one needs the basics of music theory and an advanced sense of Perfect pitch.

A low C indicates a safe distance for the front left corner, a middle C the front right while the Cs an octave and 2 octaves above represent the 2 rear corners of the car.

As I close on the walls through a drift, the pitch rises for each corner depending on the distance. Hearing C would mean I was within 3 meters of a wall or guardrail. F sharp would mean a distance of between 120 to 140 centimeters. A B flat was the absolute closest I dared get at 20 cm.

A B flat meant a close shave, a red line so to speak. Hearing it meant I was pushing too hard and that to keep doing so was inviting disaster in the form of a quarter panel meeting a wall.

If someone thought it would have all been well and truly at home in a computer game, they couldn't have been more right.

Tsuyoshi was majoring in a Computer Engineering Systems degree at the time. Together,we fed pre-existing GPS data into a computer game engine and connected up the steering, pedals and gearshift of the car to the computer.

We simulated driving through the various courses of Gunma, Ibaraki, Saitama and Tochigi for months, doing little else but tuning the system and honing our skills to perfection

Between us, Course Records were made and broken several thousand times over and we were killed just as many times on the system. But a click of the mouse and we were resurrected, the car repaired and back in top form for us to take on the virtual turns once more.

The final test was late one public holiday night when we took the car out onto the Usui pass knowing it would be empty. Along I drove at grandmotherly speeds, palms sweaty with a deathgrip upon the steering.

Yoshi was beside me blabbering constant updates on the road in a manner that was more harm than good really. The useless commentary just made me nervous...but it was reassuring just to know he was there.

After what we both agreed had been the most nerve wracking hour of our lives to date, we celebrated at Yokokawa with bottles of Pocari Sweat from a vending machine and enough cheering that could have been heard in the next town.

But that was three years in the past. These days I negotiate the turns on the Usui pass faster than any other traffic I come across at night, racers included.

I chose not to challenge cars ahead of me, but Yoshi would sometimes alert me to the lights of the car tailgating us even though we'd given them ample chance to overtake. I'd speed up as they would do the same and we'd play by typical Touge rules.

Ten or so turns later, even the best of them would disappear from behind me despite my driving at half ability.

I was beginning to want to explore, to seek out the other wolves in the woods...

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The town of Takasaki is framed on every side by mountains and driving with the window down in late summer is always a pleasure for me. The buzz of the cicadas, the heated breeze caressing my face, the scent in the air that tells of flowers poised in buds, waiting to explode into spring bloom; It reminds me of the time I rode in Father's minibus and still the colours from that morning roll through my mind.

I cruise into the town behind a convoy of holiday makers and make my way through the grid of streets to my car's second home: Shigeru's workshop.

The engine's still running as I step over a pair of large objects the sensors picked up on my arrival and saunter over to where Shige spends the latter part of his mornings: the makeshift office in the corner.

Tobacco smoke and the hint of cheap Kirin draught mix with the prominent odour of motor grease and engine oil as I near; a sign that the Shigeru is in and at his desk.

"So sorry to interrupt your breakfast again, Boss." I mutter as I adjust my sunglasses.

"Che.. Breakfast, lunch or dinner it's all the same these days. Lucky Strike and Draught or Ale." comes the hoarse reply, punctuated by the rustle of his newspaper.

There's a small pause as he sucks in another lungful of smoke with a quiet hiss, "Got an assignment for you Saturday. Pickup from the Suwa Hotel here and drop off at the Chinese Restaurant in your town. I'll leave the details in your glovebox."

"Understood." I nodded my affirmation. The pickups came every so often and were an agreement between Shigeru and I. My part of the deal was to ferry an anonymous passenger from Takasaki to Karuizawa on either Friday or Saturday Night, no questions asked.

The passenger was always a middle-aged male; heavyset and reeking of expensive cologne masking body odour. My guess was that he was some political Heavyweight that couldn't risk being seen by journalists or the general public for fear of scandal. The fact that I was blind made me the perfect driver for the job. His business was none of my concern but once again, I guessed that he visited a mistress in Karuizawa.

Shigeru's part of the agreement was simple: The car had been his to begin with. Along with the navigational laser and complementing sensors, it was mine for as long as I did the pickups. Additional Parts were at my expense but the installation and high performance tuning was a favour of his.

As it was, I'd been looking for an engine upgrade for some months now. The stock engine in the GC8 hadn't enough low end torque for my liking.

Shige anticipated my next question, "News isn't good: The EJ22 from Osaka had tampered internals. Car it came out of was fully modified and run within an inch of it's life."

I frowned under my sunglasses, "They didn't bother to tell you before it arrived?"

"I don't think they picked up on it either. I checked it over just before you got here. It's one of those two blocks you passed on your way in." the smoke whiffed over me as he'd looked up from his paper.

Guess I was going to have to use the existing engine for now. I shrugged, "Doesn't matter, it's something that can wait. No trouble keeping the money in the bank a little longer. Oh, there **Was** something else I needed to bring up with you though."

I paced back towards the car and knelt beside the bonnet, "Hear that?"

His cheap thongs shuffled beside me and I could sense him kneeling, hear him filling his lungs with smoke again before holding his breath. A moment passed before he exhaled in a cough, "She's idling at about 1200 - that's fine isn't it? Can't pick anything else up. "

"She sits at 1200 for but rises about 15 rpm for just a second." No one else might have been able to pick it up but to me: it'd been quite clear. "Slight hesitation after shifting 2nd to 3rd as well. About 4350. Might have been the injectors I thought, or maybe the fuel pump surging."

I slipped a floppy disk from my shirt pocket. "Tsuyoshi logged the data. I haven't had a chance to look at it yet but it's probably something you can do better."

He chuckled as I offered him the disk. "Said it before, boy. That's some skill you've got there." I cut the ignition and traced his shuffles back to the desk.The click of the disk in the drive sounded and mouse clicks followed. "You know, you need to find yourself a woman. Someone who will get you thinking about things other than all this car rubbish."

I couldn't stifle the snicker, at the mere prospect of rejections just at my handicap. Then there was the fact that I hadn't had a formal education, wasn't particularly well off and oh yes...also happened to be facially disfigured to an extent. Four out of three strikes. I laughed, yet again. "I don't know, Boss. It's not like girls really go for my kind."

"Heh.You'll never know unless you try. But you need to meet some new people, boy." He leaned closer, his next sentence hushed "Also, the other boys here tend to think that both the kid you drive with and you aren't interested in women."

"Uhh...how do you mean?"

"Food for thought, Makoto, you know just what I mean." I could feel my ears burning as the pathetic attempt to play dumb fell to the floor. "Now give me an hour or so to plod through this stuff." the flick of his lighter sounded, followed by the hiss of butane from the cartridge as he lit another cigarette .

"I'll uhm...head out for a walk." I pondered what he'd mentioned as I returned to the car to retrieve my walking stick. Were people really reading that of Tsuyoshi and I?

"Oh, one other thing..." came that smoke thickened voice again. Shigeru cleared his throat in a hoarse cough as I turned. "There's a group of racers that meets about 2 kilometers past the Eneos Service station at the top of Usui, Saturday nights, 2am." another chuckle, "Maybe they'll have some attractive sisters they can introduce to you."

"Um...sure. Thanks Boss. I'll uh...keep it in mind." I nodded, tapping my cane out the garage. The idea seemed interesting and yet, the term 'Street Racers' suggested a group...no...Gang of road hooligans as opposed to the true breed of racing enthusiasts I might have seeked.

What did an old goat like Shigeru know about street racing these days anyway?

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**Replies:**

Re: Tiger eyes - 

And guess what? This is the 4th month. Here's hoping it was worth the wait. As you can see from the detail and length there ARE reasons why it took as long as it did, like the fact that I had to rewrite the first half or so. As for this chapter, not as much for you to sink your teeth into I think. But the plot IS thickening (and I promise it won't curdle). Here's hoping you enjoyed it. :)

Re: Goose 

Oh yeahhhh...about that waiting thing - Hehe...blink and it's suddenly 4 months again. This chapter was TOUGH to write.You can clearly see - it's rather technical. And as much of a bitch as I am on tech detail...well...

As for the points you made:

1) Actually - you certainly picked up well on that. If you have the soundtrack to 'The X files- The truth and the light" have a listen to the first few tracks. There's a narration from Mulder that starts off similar.

2) Karuizawa is the resort town at the top of the Usui pass. Yokogawa is down the bottom. Thing is - I personally don't think Mt Usui exists, despite the comics and games and anime calling it a Mountain. It's just a pass (Touge). Anyone confirm? Impact Blue? Why would you think that? ;)

3) Yeah - Makoto's one of those names which can be used for a guy or a girl. As for the rest of point 3 - stay tuned :)

4) Thing is that Bunta is a driver out of this world - Much respect. This GC8 is only a run of the mill one though - not an Sti.

Till next chappie :)

Re: Eikichi 

And thanks for the long review, glad you enjoyed the read. I'm even more impressed by your knowledge on the train systems as well.

Thanks for pointing out that oversight. I did get confused and the town I had in mind WAS Takasaki - not Yokokawa.

The Nagano line that goes through Karuizawa was only completed in 97 for the Winter Olympics. As the accident happened in the 80's (when Makoto was still a boy), the idea of them driving up and down the Usui pass is feasible I think:)

There WAS a train line that went from Yokokawa to Karuizawa, but that was made obsolete with the intoduction of the Shinkansen. What Makoto's father provided was an extra service for their guests :)

Japan was intense last trip...and helluva hot! 36C and 80 humidity. Not pleasant I can assure you. I headed up to Karuizawa twice. Beautiful in the summer heat compared to Tokyo. I had my bike with me (took it on the plane) and cycled about. Fantastic. Been meaning to do a website for a while. I did take quite a few pics.

Will let you know as soon as I get it up!

Oh yeah - hope you enjoyed the latest chappie.

Re: KOKO 

Hehe...I knew someone would mention about the lack of racing :) Agreed that it can't be Initial D without cars, but even Initial D isn't about racing EVERY chapter :) Thing about the series is that they have a LOT of time to develop the chars. I haven't too much.

And as for the Patlabor ref - that's a fair comment :D If he's Iconic like Geordi La Forge from ST: TNG or Scotty from the original ST - then it suits to a tee.

I can't remember the relationship between the main girl and the mechanic in Patlabor but you can see that Shige's quite abit more to Makoto than just a mechanic. :)

Hope you enjoyed the latest!

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And once again I've kept yous all waiting :p - oh well, rather than apologise I'll just say that the next chapter is going to be a LOT easier for me to write.

And I do have a competition with someone else to see how which of us gets our respective fics finished (You know who you are) ;)

Till next chapter/review!!!


	4. First Contact

**Disclaimer/Copyright:** More of a copyright notice than a disclaimer at this point really. The fic will introduce certain Initial D characters later. The plot and original characters in this story belong to me. Shigeno owns the rest. You know which ones are his. Rating will be PG for now due to adult themes and may shift up later.

Silly as it might sound, I have to stress that all of the following is pure fiction. I am in no way responsible if you somehow attempt to do the same and injure others and/or yourself in the process.

Blah, blah - usual copyright stuff. Not using this for profit, Rhubarb, Rhubarb...

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**The Light at The End of The Tunnel  
By Kochan**

Chapter IV - First Contact 

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He was nervous tonight.

His body odor was strong and I could hear the rustle of the handkerchief he used to wipe his balding head.

We weaved through the narrow side streets before merging onto the Usui pass. The rear seat squeaked as he sat upright, calmer now that we'd left Takasaki. His labored, monotone breathing was deafening and boredom was beginning to mount as I took the corners at a third of my normal speed.

I tapped the console to switch the CD player on.

The faceless, yet beautiful Cellist beside me eased her bow across the strings in the darkness. Delicate fingers fluttered and stroked across the narrow neck of the instrument as her soothing music filled the cabin.

But her song was drowned out all too soon by the sudden cry of my long range sensors. I wrenched the steering to the right , the thump and grunt behind me proof that my cargo had neglected to wear his seatbelt. Whatever it was scampered off to the side after we passed.

"Sorry." my apology was expected rather than needed.

"Goddamn Pests...sooner we're rid of them the better." came his muttered curse to confirm my suspicion.

Nagano Snow Monkeys had been common about Karuizawa for as long as I remember. A road reconstruction project destroyed their habitat decades ago and forced them into migration here.

Every so often, you'd hear of a terrified housewife crying about the 'vicious' intruder lurking in her backyard. Bird hunters with shotguns were commissioned to deal with the threats for a paltry five thousand Yen a head. They'd kill one to or two monkeys in a single hunt whilst wounding another six or seven.

The wounded, driven mad with pain would flee through the forest ...often straying onto the roads. Their anguish was something the man behind me could never comprehend.

My rear sensors sounded this time around: A pair of Turbo Skylines on the climb, exhaust and intake drones bearing down on us. Blow off Valves flushed as they passed, then again as they braked for the corner ahead before vanishing.

We entered Karuizawa not long after. I dimmed my lights on entering the carpark of the Chinese Restaurant so as not to attract attention.

There was no note, no tips, no thanks before the door slammed close. All he left was the lingering fog of his tobacco breath and the sweaty reminder of anxiety. My senses welcomed the cool touch and fresh scent of the forest air as the windows slid down.

The audio system beeped: Midnight.

Tsuyoshi should be ready by now.

* * *

"We can finally meet up with some other pros!" Thank goodness Tsuyoshi's enthusiasm wasn't infectious.

"We're not pros." I stated.

"Still...lt'll be cool to check out the cars up close and take loads of photos!"

_Surely he was kidding..._

He patted his pockets and groaned, "Damn! I forgot my camera! Can we head ba..."

"No." the answer rolled off my tongue without thinking. Though we still had time to turn back and just stay home.

But no, we were already there. The soothing scent of dried pine needles filled the cabin as I pulled off the road.

"There's no one here." he sighed. The sensors confirmed as they swept the clearing.

We kept the doors open to let the breeze through the cabin. Twelve-thirty came and went with Tsuyoshi's in-depth preview on the upcoming Formula One Grand Prix. His blabbering was getting louder and more annoying by the moment, a sign that he was bored.

That familiar rumble in the distance was also growing.

"Someone's coming!" Tsuyoshi chattered like a boy at his first Obon festival.

Recognition furrowed my brow as the two Skylines that passed me earlier pulled in. Their six-cylinder engines growled their dominance over the clearing like a pride of lions. As with animals, the leader's car was older, yet more powerful with another hundred horsepower under its bonnet. It was as though they watched us from the darkness, stalking...waiting.

"Let's go introduce ourselves! Maybe they'll let us cruise with them later!" piped my co-driver as he prepared to step out.

"Wait." I caught his arm and leaned my head to the side to listen to them.

"No one's here tonight: I guess we should have headed to Akagi with the others. There's still time for another run though!" I put this one's age under twenty, still a student.

"Maybe, but what the hell's **that** doing here?" He was older with that lower, matured tone and it was obvious he was referring to my car.

"Another Four-wheel expert from Emperor coming to challenge our older sisters again?" said the younger with a touch of amusement.

_Older sisters?_

The other one sneered, "You're giving him too much credit. They only use Lancers, not 'shopping carts' like this." I decided I didn't like either of them.

"He couldn't even afford the turbo! Maybe it's his mother's car?"

"Yeah, she cut the springs to lower it so it'd go faster at the supermarkets!" Another chorus of mocking laughter floated our way. Undue insult and ridicule was bad enough, but taking verbal swings at my family was low.

Tsuyoshi chuckled at the laughter, oblivious, "Seems like they don't mind us being here."

My sigh took the explanation with it. Perhaps it was best to leave.

Too late. The light clop of fashionable casual shoes closed in.

"Oi, you two! What business have you got here?" There was the older guy who'd likened my car to a basket on wheels.

"Hi! We were wondering if...ow...um..." Tsuyoshi got the idea as my elbow dug into his side.

"We were just leaving." I said. We hadn't come to be fodder for their jokes.

"Wha? No! We heard that some racers normally meet up here around this time." said Tsuyoshi, obviously **not **having gotten the idea. I resisted the urge to thump him.

The man stifled a snigger, "Which brings me back to my question: What are **you** doing here?"

"Well, we were hoping to join you guys!" bubbled the overenthusiastic raccoon beside me.

The laughter wasn't even held back out of courtesy this time. "Sorry, but you're missing a few critical components: Like a car and a clue." his chuckles trailed off with his footsteps. "Oh…and don't mind if we leave first so you don't hold us up on the Usui pass back to Tokyo."

My fists were clenched tight enough to make them tremble. This conversation wasn't over: I for one preferred to let my driving do the talking.

"I don't get it. We've got a car and all. And why mention Tokyo?" asked Tsuyoshi.

"Car's registered to Shigeru's Garage in Meguro." The lions grumbled as they were roused from their slumber before crawling onto the pass. "The guy that came over before: he's in the R33 GTS-T?" I asked.

"Yeah. And I think there's a R34 GT-R there as well." said my co-driver with a combination of awe and fear.

"It's just a GT-T with a RB25 engine." I clicked the seat belt into place. "Also, something tells me they're not 4WD friendly."

He groaned as I flicked the ignition, "We're heading back already? I was hoping..."

"We're leaving alright." Vital signs formed in my mind as that chorus of whines came to life. The clutch seemed lighter and she felt tense as we eased onto the pass. "Just taking the scenic route."

"Ohhhh..." Tsuyoshi wasn't the brightest firefly this side of the river, but he knew enough to figure that the insults weren't going unanswered.

"Front-rear split 30:70." I called. Two-thirds of the torque delivered to the rear wheels would make her more predictable.

His thumb flicked over the laptop. "Done."

"Let's go shopping."

* * *

There was no hesitation as her scream climbed to 5500 RPM.

Shigeru had fixed her well. The problem with the fuel pump had been like an unsettling feeling in my own body: hard to pick but harder to ignore.

"Uh...Left hairpin, thirty...twenty...oi..." that squeak at the door handle told me that Tsuyoshi was only just hanging on. He's used to me hitting the brakes some distance back.

Not today.

I shifted down and swung the steering right then a full turn left to unsettle her. She slid her back out and the whine indicating the rear right climbed through the scales to peak at G Sharp as I fed the power in. We'd come within a meter of the guardrail.

My long range sensors caught them two corners later and Tsuyoshi confirmed. "The GT-T's bring up the rear!"

I flashed my lights on closing in to offer the challenge. "He's signaling the leader...and they're pulling away!" his voice was taut with exhilaration.

"Good. It's on." They'd taken the bait.

Their six cylinder engines puffed before whining from load. My own Blow off Valve added a third puff to the chorus as I braked for the corner. My foot hadn't left the pedal for a half second before the sensor scream forced it back.

"Whoa..." echoed my co-driver as the rear of the GT-T loomed a meter in front of us. Not even half pace was enough to tailgate him as he power slid and over corrected through the next few turns. Keeping the pressure up only caused his driving to become more erratic.

The sharp hairpin doubling as a lookout emptying onto another corner was next.

"Distance between them?" I asked.

"About Ten meters!" came the reply.

"Front-Rear Split 40: 60."

"Already done." Tsuyoshi was ahead of me for once. We'd done this corner tens of times though this was the first with another car so close.

My opponent would take the outside and turn in late as he had for every turn. Not that it was bad practice but he just didn't know otherwise. I'd anticipated his braking point. We hit our center pedals and downshifted within the same split second...but I eased off the brakes earlier.

…_showtime…_

A hard turn of the wheel, jerk of the handbrake and I forced the tail out.

Sensors screeched through the scales and my co-driver cussed like a drunken Yakuza in a cheap Saitama bar. We'd just cleared the guardrail and the GT-T's fender by ten, fifteen centimeters on sliding into the hairpin. She found her feet as I powered out, slipping forward through the turn ahead of my first opponent.

The odor of unburnt High Octane alone was enough to tell me that my second was only meters ahead. This GTS-T boasted two more cylinders, twenty percent more engine capacity and fifty more horsepower than my GC8.

He took the inside with full intention of blocking any passes. I'd ridden the brakes harder, my attack already begun from his left. The rear, then the entire car slid out as I fed her just what she needed to break traction. All four tyres scrabbled for grip and my left sensors cried out of an impending collision. Tsuyoshi's whimper was just audible over the squeal of rubber.

But she pulled herself towards the inside of the corner exit as I'd expected. My opponent slid to the outside, struggling to put his horsepower down to the asphalt. Shifting to third on the straight was the final note to the requiem and we'd pulled away before the next corner.

"Whoa...I swear I could have tapped his window!" breathed Tsuyoshi, tension choking his voice as we shared a chuckle.

The next few corners were ones I took with a subtle grin on my face. Driving was beginning to mean something new to me once again. And try as I did, I couldn't get that one thought out of my head...

_...not bad for a shopping trolley..._

_

* * *

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**Author's Notes:**

Obon festival: Festival of the Lanterns/Festival of the Dead. Buddhist holiday held to honour one's ancestors in Mid-July to August. Food, dancing, games and fireworks are the highlights of these celebrations.

GTS-T: If you know your cars, you'll know there's technically no such thing as a R33 GTS-T. The car that Makoto mentions is in actual fact a R33 GTS25T with the RB25DET powerplant, modified up to put out more horsepower. In Japanese, they'd probably just term it a R-San-san or the like but I won't go into that here.

GT-T: Younger brother to what would arguably be the best GT-R model to date. 280 HP under the bonnet from a highly tuned RB25DET and sans the ATTESSA and extra torque which makes the GT-R what it is. Often mistaken for a R34 GT-R as it shares the same shell.

One other thing of note. Modern Sti's are equipped with something known as a DCCD (Driver Controlled Center Differential). what this does is allow the driver to switch torque split by way of a dial on the console from 50/50 to 41/59. Makoto's vehicle has a more advanced version of this controlled by a computer (laptop) which allows full Front or Rear torque assignment and anything in between. There's also a situation dependent, automatic mode which lets the computer select how much to allocate between front and rear for performance and traction (Not for drift obviously).

**Replies:**

Tigereyes: Well...you were the first to read this chapter...even before it was fully formatted might I add :) It's been quite a while between chapters but heh...you know what a big part of that is. I don't regret doing it all...considering what I learnt from doing it though. Till next!

Wild Goose:Hehe...I thought I was too Lot's been happening in the months past. It's been almost a year since I updated this :P Somehow I doubt you'll ever read this...but here we go anyhows.

1) They used a laser like that to map data for computer games like Kaidou Batoru 2. As for Shigeru getting it, he IS connected in ways :) Makoto has a very good set of speakers and a VERY good set of ears. Being blind...you can imagine.

2) Thanks. And that was a big hint on his gender ;)

3) The other way round actually. Sti versions 1-6 were GC8s (Chassis no.). Version 7-8 are GD types :) Makoto was actually looking for a EJ22G block from a 22B but that fell through. However...being a JDM spec 2000 WRX - his car DOES have the EJ207 block which was also used in the Ver 5 and 6 Stis :) Subaru realised that ppl were driving about with Sti Power WRXs (with mild mods) for 2/3rds the price and quickly changed the GDs in 2001 to have the less impressive EJ205 engine instead (which was used in export cars). The block in his car is why it's well tuned at 300HP and easily capable of handling more.

4) Delivered, on time...no questions asked :)

5) Shigeru does know a bit more than he makes out yes :) As for Dora Tekku 77, Bunta is 'almost' perfect. But the one area where Takumi edges him out in is raw talent (Bunta's 9 and Takumi's 10). It's why Takumi picks things up in the blink of an eye. All the other skills can be developed over time though (which is why Bunta scores 10 in all of them).

Thanks again for reviewing almost a year ago :P And I'll have to pop over to check out your GK05 (or whatever you're up to) chapter sometime ;

Ross Riders: Hola...I don't write for reviews, you prob know that by now (otherwise I'd prob post unformatted rubbish every 2 weeks or so) :) The mods I described in the previous chapter don't really go into what's REALLY on the car, but well...one has to scrap detail when they write so as not to bore the reader :) Branding wise, The brakes were nicked off a scrapped Porsche as new Brembos are rather expensive.

Mixed Tyres are a bit of a debate yes. Cost is a fairly big factor in this case as the driver doesn't exactly have 3-4 vans carting 10 sets of tyres about (along with a whole lot of other equipment and parts). It's also something he's gotten accustomed to as he's experimented with discards and figured that this is the best of what's available. Good point to bring up though :)

Thanks for reading once again, and thanks for the review :) Till next

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Well, suffice it to say that I lost the afore mentioned competition in a big way Though I will say that I have posted 4 chapters of other stuff since then (just not on THIS fic) :P Things have changed and I'm hoping to be working in Tokyo as an English teacher within 2-3 months. Here's hoping that the next installment will be out before then though.

Till next chapter/review!


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